


Stranded

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Sex in the Impala, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:14:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4790294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine the Impala breaking down on the side of the road. When you and Dean are trying to fix it, he realizes how much of a turn on it is to see you working on his Baby (based on an imagine originally posted on Dirty Supernatural Imagines on Tumblr).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranded

“Hand me that wrench,” you said, holding out your hand.

Dean looked at you out of the corner of his eye from his position bent over the hood of the Impala, his t-shirt tight across his shoulders, smudges of dirt and grease on his cheeks. “Okay, sweetheart, but…”

“Stow it, Dean,” you snapped. “Just give me the wrench.” You snatched the wrench out of Dean’s hand, leaned over the hood and did your best to ignore the hunter laughing beside you.

The Impala had sputtered to a halt on the side of the two lane blacktop at least forty miles outside of the nearest town. Cell reception was for shit, not that Dean would even consider letting some stranger touch his precious Baby if you could get a hold of anyone, so you had no choice but to watch as he popped the hood and set to work.

You knew a little about cars, thanks to your father, and you had your own suspicions as to what might be wrong with the Impala, but there was no way Dean was going to let you touch it. So you’d sat back and waited, leaning against the front fender. After ten minutes of the heat beating down on you, you’d slipped off Dean’s old flannel and tossed it through the open window into the backseat. You hadn’t missed Dean looking you up and down, his eyes lingering on your legs and crawling slowly up your body. He’d winked at you when he’d finally reached your eyes, a smirk on his face.

“See something you like, cowboy?” you’d asked.

“Yeah, and if I could get the damn Impala working, I’d show you just how much I like what I see,” he’d muttered.

That was when you’d held out your hand, demanding he give you the wrench. Now you were the one working on the Impala and Dean was leaning against the fender watching you. It wasn’t long before you realized that what you had thought was wrong with the damn car wasn’t actually what was wrong with it. You dropped the wrench in the toolbox, admitting defeat.

“I give up,” you shrugged. “I have no idea what’s wrong with it.” You wiped the sweat off of your chest, grimacing at the streak of grease you left behind.

“Me neither,” Dean said. He licked his thumb and wiped at the mark. “Guess we’ll have to wait for someone to come by.”

You felt like you couldn’t catch your breath, not with Dean this close. You could smell the Old Spice he wore, the mint gum he chewed, the underlying not-unpleasant smell of sweat and the oil from Baby’s engine. He pushed you against the side of the car, his hips pressing into yours, his lips just inches from yours.

“We could be waiting a long time,” you whispered. “I haven’t seen anyone since we stopped.”

Dean’s hands slipped around your waist and he brushed your lips with a soft kiss. “You know, seeing you working on Baby? Kind of a turn-on,” he murmured.

“Yeah?” you asked.

“Definitely,” he nodded. He slipped his hands under the edge of your tank top, pushing it up so he could rest his hand on the hot skin of your back. He pulled you against his chest and kissed you again, this one a little bit edgy and a lot more demanding.

You leaned into him, fisting your hands in his t-shirt, returning the kiss with enthusiasm. He pulled you with him, his lips never leaving yours as he moved the length of the car. He fumbled for the door handle, finally getting it open and pushing you into the backseat of the car. You laid on the seat, propped up on your elbows, watching as Dean easily unbuttoned your shorts and pulled them off, along with your panties, dropping them to the floor of the Impala. He climbed into the car with you, leaving the door open behind him. He kissed you, dragging his lips down your jaw to your neck while his fingers traced circles around your clit, teasing you until you were practically panting with need.

He reached back and pulled his shirt over his head, nodding at you to do the same. You hurried to take off your tank top and bra, barely dropping them to the floor before Dean was taking your breast in his mouth, sucking the nipple between his lips, biting it gently, just like he knew you liked. You arched your back, holding the back of his head with one hand, while deftly releasing him from the confines of his jeans with the other, pushing his clothes down just past his hips.

“Jesus, sweetheart, just like that,” he moaned as you roughly stroked him, his hips moving with the rhythm of your hand. He slipped a single finger inside you, pumping it carefully in and out as his mouth continued its thorough exploration of your breasts.

A hot breeze blew through the open windows, the only sounds the cries of the birds in the trees, the steady thrum of the cicadas and you and Dean all over each other in the back of his car - the squeak of your bodies against the leather, quiet gasps and moans, skin sliding along skin.

Dean sat up, pulling you with him until he was seated and you were straddling him, your thighs on either side of his. He lowered you onto his substantial length, groaning as your warmth surrounded him. He kneaded your ass, tugging you forward, urging you to move. You did, his cockhead brushing your sweet spot. You moved again, gripping him with your thighs, pulling him deep inside you. You took his head in your hands and tipped it back, drawing him to you to kiss him, moaning as he thrust into you over and over.

“Right there, baby,” he groaned. “Come on, sweetheart, I want you to come for me.” He slid his hands between your bodies, easily finding your clit, rubbing it as he slammed into you.

The combination of his hand on you and his cock deep inside you sent you reeling, the orgasm rocketing through you, lighting every nerve on fire, taking you to unbelievable heights of pleasure.

You clung to him as he continued to move, nearly spent from the intensity of the orgasm, both of his hands on your hips, pulling you down as he moved, his movements fast and hard. He growled your name as he came, his eyes squeezed shut, head back, the muscles in his throat tense and tight.

Dean wrapped his arms around you, rubbing his hands up and down your back. He kissed your chest, right where the streak of grease was, his lips soft against your skin. He moved up your neck until he was reached your lips, kissing you, humming softly in the back of his throat as his tongue slid into your mouth.

You could have stayed there all day, kissing Dean in the backseat, but the sound of tires on gravel drew you out of the little world you’d briefly escaped into. You looked over your shoulder through the windshield; you could just barely see a car past Baby’s open hood.

“Looks like play time’s over,” he sighed heavily, lifting you and sitting you next to him. He tucked himself back into his clothes, leaned over and kissed you. “Too bad, I was hoping you could help me work on Baby some more.”

“Maybe later,” you smiled as you grabbed your clothes.

“Definitely later,” he said as he stepped from the car, tossing a wink over his shoulder.

 

 


End file.
